


Whiskey

by 13starbuck42



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Collab, F/M, First Time, Flashbacks, NSFW, POV, Whiskey - Freeform, holiday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13starbuck42/pseuds/13starbuck42
Summary: A green velvet dress, thigh-high stockings, and the annual holiday party.





	1. Chapter 1

Budgets and projections had never interested Mulder, and despite my own best efforts, the doodles he’d been making in the margins of his agenda had distracted both of us for the better part of an hour.  By the time the janitor was switching off the hallway lights, though, the meeting had shifted from actual business to FBI gossip and general bullshitting.  It was clear nothing else of importance would be discussed.

Skinner stood and crossed to his credenza.  “Time for a drink, agents.  Whiskey?”

My head snapped up and my eyes found Mulder, seated across the conference table.  His gaze went from my face to Skinner’s and I knew, instinctively.  Whiskey.  The annual holiday party.  It had been over two months and until now, we had all pretended it never happened; we never mentioned it, ignored all discussion of that particular evening.  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Skinner set three glasses on the table, two fingers of whiskey in each.  He slid ours across the table and held up his own.  “Cheers, agents.  To the holiday party…” he smirked knowingly, before throwing back his whiskey and pouring himself another.

Mulder sipped, setting his glass quietly on the table.  I traced my finger along the rim, stared into the amber liquid, and took a deep breath.  A blush was quickly spreading across my cheeks, and I would have loved to blame it on the whiskey, but it was the memory of that night that flushed my skin and sent a rush of liquid warmth between my thighs.


	2. Chapter 2

Mulder had offered to pick me up.  Neither of us had really wanted to go, but the thought of Mulder in a tux convinced me.  He showed up early and used his key to let himself in while I showered.  I found him standing in front of my bedroom mirror, struggling with his bow tie.

“Mulder!  You’re early!”  Thankful I’d wrapped myself in a towel, I stood startled in the doorway, a hand to my chest.  “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t get this damned tie, Scully.”  He shook his head and shrugged in frustration, dropping his arms to his sides.  He turned from the mirror to look at me helplessly, giving his best pouty lips-puppy eyes combo.

“Come here.”  I made quick work of his bow tie, straightened his lapels, double-checked his cufflinks.  “There now, all set.  Mulder, there’s a bottle of wine in the kitchen; why don’t you pour a glass for each of us.”  I had to give him something to do, and still only had time to throw on my robe and dry my hair before he came back, a glass of wine in each hand.  He sat on the edge of the bed as I applied makeup and pinned back my hair.

“Do you have to watch me?”

“Oh, I know how the sausage is made, Scully,” he chuckled.  “You don’t have to do any of that, you know,” he said after a pause, his voice softening.  “You always look great.”  He looked at his hands, palming the wine glass, and shifted nervously.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Mulder.  You clean up nice.”  I winked at him in the mirror, and he smiled.  “Ok, out.  I need to get dressed,” I shooed him.  “I’ll just be a minute.”

When he’d gone, I untied my robe.  As I reached for the dress in its plastic bag, I caught sight of myself: black balconette bra, lace panties, and matching thigh-high stockings with a seam up the back.  One more glass of wine and I might have walked out like that, just to see Mulder’s face.  Instead, I stepped into the dress.  It was velvet; a deep green, almost black, and the wide straps plunged into a deep ‘v’ in the front and back, exposing more skin than I’d ever dared.  Delicate gold-thread designs called attention just under my bust, and the fitted waist flared slightly just above my hips.  I adjusted the neckline, smoothed the skirt with my palms, and realized I couldn’t reach to zip the dress all the way.  Rolling my eyes, I hooked the straps of my heels in one hand, grabbed my clutch with the other, and left the bedroom.

“I need you to zip me,” I said, crossing to the door.  I braced myself against the wall and stepped into my shoes, gaining nearly three blessed inches in height.  “Mulder.  Mulder, did you hear me?  I need help with the zipper...”  I looked up at him, standing stock-still, eyes unblinking, lips parted.  He shook his head slowly.  “Scully… wow.”  It made me blush, and I ducked my head before turning around.  “Um, zip me?”  I heard him approach and felt the drag of the zipper, the pull of the hook-and-eye.  His breath was hot on my neck; it tickled the wisps of hair at my nape, and then Mulder’s hands, weighted and warm, went to my shoulders.  They trailed slowly down my arms before settling on my waist, and I shivered at his touch.  Gentle pressure turned me around to face him.  “You look amazing, Scully.”

“Thank you, Mulder.”  I was shy, almost embarrassed at his attention, and I reached for my coat.  “Should we go?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

We got there late, of course, but the drive was quiet and comfortable.  Mulder was the perfect gentleman, opening the car door and checking our coats.  He brought me a glass of wine; asked me to dance.  We made the obligatory rounds, socialized like good little agents, and then found a table near the bar.  Skinner spotted us from across the room and made his way over.  We made small talk and danced when the DJ played good songs.

When the official party was over, we joined a handful of office acquaintances and made our way down the hall to the hotel bar, hoping to continue the evening.  Mulder had unbuttoned the top of his crisp white shirt and untied his bow tie, which now hung loosely around his neck.  My hair was beginning to come loose from the pins, soft curls framing my face, and I carried my heels in my hand.  Skinner and the other agents continued on ahead of us, laughing and joking.  They walked around the corner, out of sight.  As we passed the deserted coat check, Mulder grabbed my hand and tugged me down the two steps into the dark alcove.  I was surprised when he caught me by the waist and pulled me close, his lips softly brushing my cheek.

“I gotta tell you,” he said quietly, “and maybe this is the cocktails talking, but damn, Scully...  I can’t keep my eyes off you.  You look amazing.”

I laughed, a nervous defense mechanism, and discovered that my hands, seemingly of their own accord, were moving.  They traveled over his biceps, across the muscles of his shoulders, and found their way into his hair.  “Mulder…” I sighed, my resolve weak as his fingertips slipped into the ‘v’ at the back of my dress, finally skin on skin.  I pulled away, just slightly, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead.  “Mulder, we have to go.  They’ll wonder where we are, and you know as well as I do that they’ll start talking if we don’t show up soon.”  Stepping back, I turned to go, but he held fast to my hand and drew me back to him.  His mouth landed on mine, a kiss so deep and honest, so long and lingering, that I swear time stopped.  And then he was gone, up the steps and in the hallway, turning the corner to the bar.


	4. Chapter 4

Stunned, I put my shoes on and slowly made my way down the hall.  Whether it was the cocktails or not, I had enjoyed that kiss more than I cared to admit.  It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it before, kissing Mulder.  But this kiss… oh, it would be a long time before I’d forget this kiss.  I made a conscious effort to calm my racing heart and slow my breathing, and walked into the bar.

The group was smaller already; only six or seven agents remained, including both Skinner and Mulder, and they were crowded around two high-tops in the corner of the bar.  Empty glasses and bottles littered the tables and I wondered just how late we were to this afterparty.  Skinner saw me hesitate in the doorway and motioned for me to join them.  I took the only empty seat at the table, next to Mulder.  Skinner set a whiskey in front of me, and against my better judgement, I took two long pulls and finished the drink quickly.  It warmed me immediately.

The table conversation centered around the illicit happenings at the holiday party: who danced together, who was caught kissing under the mistletoe, who drank too much.  I held my breath, hoping no one would mention our escapade in the coat check.  Then someone mentioned a cab ride home, and suddenly there were three.  Skinner ambled over to the bar for another round of drinks and Mulder took the opportunity to make his intentions clear.

His hand, underneath the table, found its way to my thigh; his fingers stroked lazy circles over the velvet, and I felt my pulse quicken.  I looked away, seeking out any distraction, but Mulder put a finger under my chin and turned my face to his.  “You are going to finish this drink and then you are going to excuse yourself.”  He let go of my face  but his gaze held fiercely.  “Go to the coat check and wait for me there.”  Mulder’s eyes flickered over my shoulder; Skinner was returning with the drinks.  “Do you understand me, Dana?”  


	5. Chapter 5

“Whiskey?” Skinner offered, and we toasted to the holidays.  The golden liquid warmed me further, and my mind drifted to immoral thoughts of my partner - whose hand had snaked its way into the slit up the front of my dress and at least one finger was grazing the damp center of my black lace panties.  I threw back the rest of the whiskey and it burned all the way down, but I stood and reached for my clutch, clearing my throat.  “Next round is on me, boys, but I’m going to visit the little girls room first.”  I spun around, barely keeping my balance between the heels and the booze, and made for the hallway.  Behind me, I could hear Skinner telling me that there were restrooms in the bar, and Mulder making excuses.

Around the corner, I stopped to steady myself against the wall.  Was this really happening?  Could I even do this, did I want this?  Yes, yes, yes.  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and squared my shoulders before walking the rest of the way.  The coat check was still dark, with only three jackets left hanging.  I made my way to the counter and leaned my elbows against the smooth oak top, fingers toying with the gold embroidery and green velvet of my dress.

And then there he was, tall and broad-shouldered, standing in front of me.  Mulder palmed my neck, crushed me against him I pushed his jacket from his shoulders and pulled the tie from under his collar.  My hands wandered his back, learning the curves and planes of him as he pressed his body against mine.

Without warning, he picked me up and sat me on the counter.  The glossy oak was cool under my thighs, through my dress.  Mulder blazed a fiery trail of kisses across my chest and between my breasts, as far down as the neckline would allow.  When there was nowhere else for him to go, he raised his eyes to mine and lowered himself to his knees in front of me.  Sliding me to the edge of my perch, he ran his hands the full length of my legs, ankle to thigh, stopping when he reached the top of my stockings.

“Oh, Scully, thigh-high stockings,” he growled, lust in his eyes, and he kissed me there, where delicate lace met creamy skin.  His hands prowled greedily for my panties and when he finally had them off, I was certain he could smell my desire.  My head was spinning, buzzed on whiskey and adrenaline; my skin was tingling, eager and impatient.

“Mulder,” I murmured.  He hooked my knees over his shoulders; I could feel his breath, hot and humid and so close.  He nuzzled his nose into my folds, seeking out my throbbing clit, lapping up the wetness he found with his tongue.  I leaned back to give him better access, clinging to the edge of the counter, and tried to focus on the circles his tongue was dancing around my clit.  At some point, it occurred to me that we were at work, we were in public, we could easily be discovered.  I was sitting on this beautiful countertop, wearing this beautiful dress, and I was this close to coming all over my partner’s beautiful face.  I knew it wasn’t a good idea, I knew it wasn’t smart, but I’ll be damned if I was able to stop when I felt his fingers enter me and curve up, just that way.  In that moment, nothing else mattered.

I clutched his hair in both of my hands, bucked against him, and moaned loudly, knowing full well that Skinner - and probably anyone else in a five-mile radius - could hear me.  Hell, it was so good I almost wanted them to hear, wanted them wonder who was so lucky, wanted them to be jealous.  His tongue worked furiously on my quivering clit, his fingers persisted in their urgent rhythm.

“Come for me, Scully.  I want to taste you,” he whispered, and everything went white-hot.  Colors flashed like they do when you press your knuckles too hard into your eyes.  I shuddered, tensed my thighs, arched into him and my arms gave out.  I laid flat on the polished oak counter and lost control.  I called out his name, called out to God, told all my secrets, begged for forgiveness.

Mulder stood up, letting my legs fall from his shoulders to hitch around his waist, and his fingers languidly traced from my thighs to my knees and back.  He chuckled softly; maybe because he was proud of himself, maybe because he knew Skinner heard the whole thing, maybe because I said something ridiculous, I don’t know.

I was still dazed when his hands moved to unfasten his pants, and they fell with his boxers to the floor, pooling around his ankles.  I was still splayed over the counter, and when he leaned to kiss me I could feel the head of his cock tease at my entrance, still wet with want.  His eyes, endless pools of chameleon hazel, met mine and waited, seeking my assent.  “Yes,” I whispered, “please,” and there was no turning back.  He pushed himself into me, slow and deep, and expelled all the air from his chest in a heavy sigh.  “Oh God, Scully.  You feel… so good.”  He held there, granite-hard, and stroked my cheek with his thumb.  He dotted my face with kisses, featherlight and tender, before settling at my mouth, moaning as my tongue grazed his.

“Mulder?  Scully?  I’m going to grab one more round and then call a cab.  Are you two coming back, or…?”  Skinner called smugly from the hall.  But he didn’t dare turn the corner; he knew exactly what he would find.

Mulder growled into my mouth and steadied himself on his forearms, still poised over me, still inside me.  “Just, ah… We’ll be there shortly, sir,” he insisted, louder than necessary.  Skinner laughed, and his voice faded as he sauntered back into the bar.  Muffled voices told us he was ordering up another round; he was sticking around to see how this played out.

And so Mulder went to work, slowly pulling out of me, slowly pushing in.  Over and over.  Harder and longer and deeper.  Gradually picking up speed, setting an increasing rhythm that I couldn’t help but meet with my hips, and I rolled into him again and again.  It was pleasure-pain; brilliant and devastating and marvelous.

He charted my neck with his lips, left trails with his tongue everywhere he could.  His hand came down to cup my breast, delving beneath my dress to push aside the satin bra and knead the soft flesh he discovered.  Fabric shifted and he took me in his mouth, tongue swirling around my nipple, pink and firm with pleasure.  I arched my back, demanding deeper contact.  He moaned my name, low and guttural, and his pace quickened once again.  I sank my nails into his shoulders, through his perfectly-tailored tuxedo shirt, raked them up and down his back.

He gripped the edge of the counter above my head for leverage and I rolled and arched to meet his thrusts.  The angle was spectacular and perfect; he drove into me and I clenched around him, tightened down, squeezed with all I had, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe or speak or think.  “Scully,” he gasped in my ear, and then he was still.  I felt him empty himself into me, throbbing and pulsing, gushing, warm and sticky and wet.  I stroked his hair; it was all I could manage, and we floated blissfully above ourselves for seconds or minutes, until the sound of clinking glasses brought us back to reality.

Mulder rolled to the side, so as not to crush me, and sat on the edge of the counter, his legs dangling.  He reached back and found my hand, kissed my palm, and pulled me up beside him.  I was still dizzy, struggling to breathe evenly.  He dressed himself and handed me the handkerchief from his tux jacket, which I used to wipe away the evidence of our mutual satisfaction.  Gingerly, I slid down from the countertop, that glossy oak countertop, and Mulder took me into his arms.

“Dana Katherine Scully, you look stunning.  Freshly fucked in this beautiful dress… mmm, if Skinner wasn’t waiting with more whiskey I’d do anything to make you come again.”

“Fox William Mulder, you can make me come again in the cab on the way to your apartment,” I promised, shoving my panties into the handkerchief pocket of his tux jacket.  I walked out of the little alcove, purposely swaying my hips because I knew he was watching me.    


	6. Chapter 6

I turned into the bar to find Skinner at the same high-top, three more glasses of whiskey waiting.  “Well, well, well… what do we have here?  You’re looking flushed, agent Scully.  Everything okay?” he needled drunkenly, grinning.

“Just too much to drink, sir.  Thanks for the whiskey,” Mulder said from behind me, winking, arms loaded with our coats.  I could see the lace of my panties in his pocket.  “Cheers,” I said, high on the afterglow of our rendezvous.  “To whiskey, and oak, and the cab ride home.”  It was my turn to wink, and I aimed it directly at Mulder.  Our glasses clinked together, clinked against our teeth, clinked on the table when we set them down empty.

“Agents?  Your cabs are here,” the bartender called.  We settled the tabs and pulled on our coats, bracing for late-December snow.  As we walked back along the hall, past the coat check, I looked back at the counter.  It’s smooth surface held new secrets now, and I smiled to myself.  


	7. Chapter 7

Mulder’s hand sliding up my skirt brought me out of my reverie, back to Skinner’s office, and I hurriedly slapped him away.  He laughed softly, seized my wrist, and snaked his way up my leg again.  Skinner was at the credenza, carefully pouring another round of drinks.

“What were you thinking about, Scully?”  His mouth was at my ear and his voice was throaty now, deep and thick with lust.  “Because I can’t stop thinking about you in that green dress and those thigh-high stockings with the seam up the back, laid out on that oak counter, saying my name when you came.”

“Mmm yes,” I answered quietly.  “I still have that dress, Mulder.  Would you like me to put it on?”  I stood and turned around, looking over my shoulder to watch his eyes go wide when he saw that I was wearing the very same thigh-high stockings.

“I’d like that very much.”

I circled behind him, put my hands on his shoulders, and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“You are going to finish this drink and then you are going to excuse yourself.  Go to my apartment and wait for me there.”  I looked up to see Skinner returning with the drinks.  “Do you understand me, Fox?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @starbuck1013 over on tumblr for the collab on this smutty little piece - love ya, babe!


End file.
